


And the drink takes you

by between_two_lungs



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/between_two_lungs/pseuds/between_two_lungs
Summary: Gatsby, Carraway, and Jordan are sipping on cocktails at The Fount, a bar in New York City. They are plotting the first meeting between Daisy and Gatsby.
Relationships: Jordan Baker/Daisy Buchanan, Jordan Baker/Jay Gatsby, Jordan Baker/Nick Carraway, Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby
Kudos: 10





	And the drink takes you

“God, I’ve needed this since 9 o’clock this morning.”

Gatsby, with a dramatic flair and flick of the wrist, tossed back a martini (“with two olives and no onion,” he demanded from the waiter). He sat on a black-and-gold geometric shaped velvet library chair, legs crossed, as he fingered out the olives at the bottom of his empty martini glass. The alcohol hadn’t lasted long enough, so the glass was still frosty. 

“Goodness, dear fellow, has your day been that bad?” asked Nick Carraway, as he sat on the black velvet sofa. He laid back into the cushions, mindlessly stirring his Tom Collins. 

“You’ve seen for yourself, old sport,” laughed Gatsby, who clearly was tipsy. “We’ve woken up into a mad world. And Daisy – I keep thinking it’s a bad dream, but I don’t seem to wake up.” 

“Oh, shut it, will you?” snipped Jordan Baker. “Honestly, you talk like a madman yourself.” She sipped a bourbon on the rocks, with a thin, spiralled slice of orange peel thrown in the glass. “None of us haven’t a clue of why things have turned out this way, but we might as well make the most of it.” 

Gatsby fidgeted with his glass then headed back to the bar.

We were sitting in the one room that brought comfort in all of New York City: the Fountain, or the Fount for short. After Daisy saw Gatsby at the party, we snuck off to the Fount. The Fount was a speakeasy bar with black-and-gold decor everywhere. There were Art Deco patterns everywhere, from wallpaper to utensils. Chandeliers dropped from the ceiling, glittering with golden sparkles that contrasted the black paint. Other New Yorkers were huddled in pairs or trios, each sipping guiltlessly on a cocktail and gossiping about the latest on Wall Street and Fifth Avenue. We were relieved to find that other people knocked back whiskey sours and tequila sunrises also at two in the afternoon.

“Things could be worse, I believe,” said Gatsby as he came back with a refreshed martini. He was standing up, leaning on a golden mantle on the wall, while Jordan and I were sitting down. He was idly sipping on his drink as he looked across the bar.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Carraway. “She didn’t look horrified when she saw you.”

Gatsby smiled and sipped his drink. His hand shook the glass as he brought it to his lips.

“Well, then, should we start planning for your first meet up,” said Jordan. She tossed her head back, her bobbed haircut barely moving. 

“Yes, my dear, but we have a few obstacles in our way,” said Gatsby sarcastically. “Firstly, we must deal with the husband situation.”

“Let’s lay it all out then,” said Jordan. “Why don’t you take her to lunch?”

“Pff, and what could we possibly talk about? It’s been seven years,” replied Gatsby.

“What do you expect to get out of this?” asked Carraway. He swirled his drink with a straw nervously. 

“Well, I – I. . .I just want to talk with her.”

“Then invite her to lunch.”

“I suppose that’s the best idea,” said Gatsby as he shakily lifted his glass into the air and took a swig. Carraway was worried about him getting too drunk, since it was only the early afternoon.

“I can see we have the town drunk on our hands,” whispered Jordan, leaning in. Carraway stifled laughter.

“And what should I say to her: hello, Daisy, what do you like to do?” 

“Well, if there’s one thing I do love, it’s gin,” Jordan joked, mimicking Daisy’s voice.

Gatsby’s smile faded into his drink. His blue-gray eyes appeared to water, yet didn’t. His gaze was elsewhere, looking into some other dimension for God-knows-what. 

“Jordan, can you set up this lunch? Maybe next Tuesday, at the Plaza.”

“Anything for you, Gatsby.”

“So, that settles it then,” said Gatsby, as he swirled his almost-empty glass. “I shall ask Daisy to lunch. Brilliant.” 

“A toast to your triumph rather than failure,” said Carraway, as he raised his refilled glass.

They lifted their glasses in unison, looking at the other and realizing that this, perhaps, was the very beginning to their companionship.

Then something caught Carraway’s eye from across the bar. A woman dressed in white lace and draped in pearls entered the doorway. Her bobbed hair shined from underneath her stylish hair, while her eyes wandered around the room, as if searching for something. She looked around the room until she found what she sought for.

“Daisy,” said Jordan, halting her drink in mid-sip. 

Gatsby looked up from his glass and saw his prize across the room. He immediately stood up straighter.

Daisy, hesitating at first, walked across the room. Her eyes never left her target. Carraway and Jordan watched both old lovers struggle to remain calm, yet they never looked away from the other.

There was an empty library chair near them. Daisy smoothed her dress and sat down.

“Hello, Jay,” she said.

Gatsby sat down beside her and lost track of the ticking arms on the clock on the mantle.


End file.
